“As usual, Henri,” said the old man, whom I guessed to be the préfet,--“as usual, an hour behind your appointment.” “Forgive him. Monsieur,” said abbé, with a simper. “The fascinations of a Court--” The grimace the old man made at this last word threw the whole party into a roar of laughter, which only ceased by the marquis presenting me in all form to each of his friends. “À table, à table, for Heaven's sake!” cried the préfet, ringing the bell, and bustling about the room with a fidgety impatience. This was, however, unneeded; for in less than five minutes the supper made its appearance, and we took our places at the board. The encomiums pronounced as each dish came and went satisfied me that the feast was unexceptionable. As for myself, I ate away, only conscious that I had never been so regaled before, and wondering within me how far ingenuity had been exercised to produce the endless variety that appeared at table. The wine, too, circulated freely; and Champagne, Bordeaux, and Chambertin followed one another in succession, as the different meats indicated the peculiar vintage. In the conversation I could take no part,--it was entirely gastronomic; and no man ever existed more ignorant of the seasons that promised well for truffles, or the state of the atmosphere that threatened acidity to the vines. “Well, Henri,” said the préfet, when the dessert made its appearance, and the time for concluding the gourmand dissertation seemed arrived,--“well! and what news from the Tuileries?” “Nothing--absolutely nothing,” said he, carelessly,--“the same people; the same topics; the eternal game of tric-trac with old Madame d'Angerton; Denon tormenting some new victim with a mummy or a map of Egypt; Madame Lefebvre relating camp anecdotes--” “Ah, she is delightful!” interrupted the prefet. “So thinks your chief, at least, Askoff,” said De Beauvais, turning to the Russian. “He sat on the sofa beside her for a good hour and a half.” “Who sat near him on the other side?” slyly asked the other. “On the other side? I forget: no, I remember it was Monsieur de Talleyrand and Madame Bonaparte. And, now I think of it, he must have overheard what they said.” “Is it true, then, that Bonaparte insulted the English ambassador at the reception? Askoff heard it as he left the Rue St. Honoré.” “Perfectly true. The scene was a most outrageous one; and Lord Whitworth retired, declaring to Talleyrand--at least, so they say--that without an apology being made, he would abstain from any future visits at the Tuileries.” “But what is to come of it?--tell me that. What is to be the result?” “_Pardieu!_ I know not. A reconciliation to-morrow; an article in the 'Moniteur;' a dinner at the Court; and then another rupture, and another article.” “Or a war,” said the Russian, looking cautiously about, to see if his opinion met any advocacy.